


My baby don't care for shows (my baby just cares for me)

by liionne



Series: Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes is an actor, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve lives under a rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: “I didn’t know.” Steve interrupts, because he doesn’t want Bucky freaking out too. One at a time. “I didn’t know that you’re… famous.”“Do you go outside?” Bucky asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that’s teasing. He isn’t freaking out anymore, even though he’s trying to look serious. “Ever seen a billboard?”“I should’ve known you’d have an ego the size of Manhattan.”James Buchanan Barnes is an international, oscar-nominated movie star. Steve Rogers, his boyfriend of six months, is only now finding that out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this ask](http://liionne.tumblr.com/post/172498332884/i-love-your-stucky-writing-just-if-you-really) that I received, thanks so much to whoever sent it in!

Steve hadn't even wanted to go out on the night that he had ended up meeting Bucky. He had just finished kind of a huge work project, which had him stooped over the desk in his studio for a minimum of twelve hours a day for like, two weeks. All he had wanted was to go home and collapse on his couch, but then his boss had cajoled him into drinks, told him that getting out would be good for him, and anyway, he had pulled some strings and gotten them into this _ totally exclusive _ club. It would be fun!

_ Totally exclusive _ turned out to translate into  _ flashy and pretentious _ . Steve had never felt more out of place in his entire life, and after an hour he was about to give up, sneaking out of the back door (there were  _ cameras _ out front, paparazzi! Steve was definitely a fish out of water in this place) only to bump into someone, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

“Sorry.” Steve mumbled, ducking to go around him. Before he could, though, he met a pair of dazzling blue eyes that looked more grey in the dark, and he blinked. Was he staring? He was totally staring. 

“No, ‘s my fault,” The other said, shaking his head. “Stood too close to the door.”

Steve gave a little nod, quickly snapping out of it. The guy hadn’t looked too weirded out by the staring - he looked sort of resigned to it. Whatever, Steve thought - when you were that hot, you probably got used to people looking. He wouldn’t know, personally.

“I’ll let you get back to…” He trailed off, waving his hand at the other guy before moving down the back steps.

“You’re leaving?” Hot Guy With Cigarette asked, stubbing the cigarette out on the wall, making him just Hot Guy. Still not a bad thing. “Weren’t you in there with that brunette and her friends?”

Yeah, Peggy was kind of hard to miss. In the few months Steve had worked at the company, he had gotten to know her a little; enough to know that she was used to people falling over themselves to talk to her, and that she didn’t appreciate it. Steve gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah, but they won’t miss me. Uh, she’s single by the way. She doesn’t take kindly to people hitting on her at bars, but she might take an exception to someone like you, so - knock yourself out.” He said, turning to leave again, when the other moved forward.

“Oh, no, I’m--” He seemed hesitant, almost confused, and Steve didn’t know why, but he was trying very much not to care. Hot Guy was way out of his league and probably straight anyway, so, “--I’m gay, for one, but I just. You’re leaving alone. Out the back. Having that much of a bad time?”

“‘S not my kind of scene.” Steve shrugged. “Most of the drinks in there cost more than I earn in a week,” An exaggeration, sure, but the twist to Hot Guy’s lips showed that he understood. “And I don’t like clubs to begin with. I dunno why I let them convince me to come here.”

“It’s not my scene either.” Hot Guy said, his nose wrinkling. “This might sound weird, but - wanna get out of here? I know a bar that’s way better, much quieter. More of a pub kinda vibe.”

Was Hot Guy asking him out? Steve was tired enough to want to go home, but then he heard a small voice in the back of his mind telling him  _ not _ to miss this opportunity, and he gave a little nod. “Sure.” He said. “Lead the way.”

The bar had been an Irish-style pub, and Bucky (because that was his name, despite how Steve had spluttered) seemed to know everyone. Someone brought them a basket of fries, and they drank cheap beer and Steve told Bucky about how he was a graphic designer and it was kind of art, maybe not the art he wanted to be doing but art he could make money off of, and Bucky told Steve about how he’d always liked drama growing up, a theater kid, which Steve didn’t believe until Bucky dug out his phone and showed Steve some pictures of his 12th grade performance of  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ .

At the end of the night, Bucky had given Steve his number, and they had parted ways. It had been one of the best nights of Steve’s life.

And the good nights just kept coming. Six months later and Steve thinks he might wanna marry Bucky, someday. He's never really been so head over heels for anyone before, but it's a hell of a good feeling.

Bucky spends most of his time at Steve’s apartment anyway; like right now, where he’s sitting on the bed, watching Steve rifle through his wardrobe. “You could’ve given me some pointers, y’know.”

Bucky is wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and Steve just - he can’t get over how good looking Bucky is. It’s been six months, but he still gets butterflies every time he looks at him. That’s probably a good thing, all things considered, but it does make it  _ so _ hard to be in a room with him when he’s half naked without jumping him.

“You'd look good in a trash bag, so stop worrying.” Bucky shrugs. “You got a suit in there?”

Steve grumbles, but he does, indeed, have a suit in there - the one he wore to his graduation, like three years ago. It still fits, though. He tries it on, no longer self-conscious about changing in front of Bucky (because he’s made it  _ abundantly _ clear that he likes Steve, even though he’s all angles and bone and papery pale skin), and when he turns around he can’t help but blush, right from the tips of his ears to his chest, hidden beneath the plain white shirt. Bucky is staring at him with a look that Steve is  _ very _ familiar with - it’s the kind of look that usually winds up with the two of them in bed. 

Needless to say, it’s one of Steve’s favourite looks.

“Oh, I’m so glad you tried that on in front of me. Now I get to take it off at least once before we go out.” Bucky says, reaching out to hold Steve’s hips, tilting his head up to look at him. 

Steve bites his lip against a shy smile, fingers running through Bucky’s hair. “You just gonna sit there, or are you gonna take it off, then?” He asks, eyebrows arching as Bucky grins wickedly, fingers curling in the belt loops of Steve’s dress trousers.

~*~

Bucky says the car is picking them up from his place. Steve’s brow wrinkles at that. “The car?” He asks, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he works.

Bucky doesn’t seem to understand his confusion, because he answers with a preppy, “Uh huh. We gotta be there for eight, so come to mine for like seven - or six, if you’re gonna be wearing the suit.”

“You  _ know _ that I’m wearing the suit.” Steve chastises him, hearing the tone in Bucky’s voice. When Bucky laughs, Steve cracks a grin too. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“See you later, Stevie.” Bucky says, and hangs up.

Steve walks over to Bucky’s, the suit slung over his arm in one of those garment bags, which he hadn’t actually owned until Bucky had given him one. Bucky had told him it was a work event, and he hadn’t said much else, obviously expecting Steve to understand. The thing is… steve doesn’t understand. And he’s kind of embarrassed to ask. Bucky must have told him what he does for a living, and Steve must have forgotten - he understands that it’s something to do with movies, so he assumes production or something. Sometimes he works long days, and Steve doesn’t seem it at all, and other times he’s off for weeks at a time. Three months into their relationship he’d gone to Europe for a week, for “promotions” - Steve didn’t really know what that meant, and he’d tried googling Bucky’s name but  _ Bucky Barnes _ brought up some pretty graphic results that Steve had been sort of interested in, but had ultimately navigated away from.

So he doesn’t really know what he’s in for tonight, but he also doesn’t care, because Bucky greets him at the door and kisses him, arms winding around his waist, and Steve decides that whatever it is, he can handle it. So long as Bucky’s there, he’ll be fine. And hey, maybe he’ll get to meet someone famous!

“You look--” He doesn’t get a chance to finish, because Bucky kisses him again, grinning. 

“Still gotta do my hair.” He says. “So no opinions yet.”

Bucky’s version of  _ doing his hair _ turns out to be tying his hair back in a slick, neat bun, a stark contrast to the messy ponytails Steve is used to seeing. It suits him, though. He looks at Bucky, in his dark blue suit and black shirt, and not only does he feel underdressed, but he feels totally and completely in love. He’s so  _ gone _ for Bucky, it floors him every time.

“Well?” Bucky grins.

Steve blinks. Well. “Horrible.” He says, and then he grins. Bucky rolls his eyes, and so Steve moves forwards, slides his hands under the jacket and kisses him softly. “You look amazing. What’s new?”

“Flatterer.” Bucky accuses, but he doesn’t fight it, kissing Steve a little more deeply, pulling him closer.

“I gotta get changed.” Steve says against his mouth. For a moment he doesn’t move, though, kissing Bucky without a second thought, but then Bucky tickles his sides and Steve jerks back, glaring at him.

Bucky chuckles. “Go get changed.” He says. “I’m not gonna let you make me late, Rogers. You’re a bad influence.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve snorts, but he heads to the bedroom to get changed anyway.

“The car” turns out to be a freaking  _ jaguar _ , jet black and fancy looking as it pulls up outside. Bucky opens the door for Steve, who slides in with wide eyes, fingers brushing the soft leather of the seats. He’s not sure he’s ever been in a car this fancy or expensive, not ever. 

That should be the first clue. No, the first clue should have been the overseas “promotions”, and Bucky saying he was a theatre kid. Those should have keyed him in. Bucky being at a fancy club should’ve maybe sent up a red flag too. And yet, it takes Steve’s feet hitting the red carpet, and his eyes landing on the frankly giant poster of Bucky’s face, to realise that for the past six months, he’s been dating a celebrity.

He really needs to get out more.

In his defence, he realises that the poster says  _ James Barnes _ , not  _ Bucky _ , which is curious, but Steve lets it slide. Tonnes of actors have stage names, he supposes. He does recall him saying that Bucky was a nickname once-- it's not important right now. Bucky’s hand slips into his, squeezing gently before he tangles their fingers together.

“You okay?” He asks, over the din of people screaming Bucky’s - James’ - name.

Steve pauses, looking at the flashing cameras and the screaming people, and then he gives Bucky his best, most winning smile. He feels kind of sick to his stomach, but he nods. “‘Course! C’mon, can’t keep your, uh - adoring fans…. Waiting.”

Bucky knows him too well, and his eyes narrow, but Steve pulls him down the red carpet and up towards the movie theatre. They pause every so often for pictures, and Bucky signs some autographs, takes some pictures, whilst Steve is introduced to Sharon, his publicist. Bucky has a publicist. Because Bucky’s an  _ actor _ .

Steve  _ really _ needs to get out more.

They’re led inside, away from the screaming fans, and Steve takes a small breath. “I’m gonna, uh. Just. Restroom.” He says, giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze before he slips away.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, because Steve wants to pace. He moves backwards and forwards, and he thinks. So Bucky’s an actor, evidently. A famous one. A  _ really _ famous one, if those crowds are anything to go by. To be honest, Steve’s not so surprised that he didn’t know about Bucky before meeting him. He never watches movies because he fidgets a lot and ends up missing the plot anyway, and he’s been so busy working for the past year or so that he never goes out. He’s a grandma hidden in a millenial’s clothing; he doesn’t keep up with pop culture, and he didn’t even have a smartphone until, like, a  _ month _ before he had met Bucky. 

Speaking of which: Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket, stoppin his pacing for a moment to google  _ James Barnes _ . Hundreds of thousands of results come up, but Steve clicks on the first one, the first one being his wikipedia page. Bucky has a  _ wikipedia _ page.  _James Buchanan Barnes_. So that makes sense, at least.

“They could’ve picked a better photo.” he mutters, but he scrolls through regardless. Maybe he’ll change that later, he’s got some good photos of Bucky, which isn’t even important right now-- Steve reads his personal history, his “early life”, and it’s all stuff that he already knows. Stuff that Bucky has told him, in their six months of dating, so that’s good. His filmography begins only four years prior; two years of pretty small-scale stuff, cameo parts and minor parts, and then in 2016 he had a supporting role in a war movie, and he was nominated for an oscar. Bucky was nominated for an  _ oscar _ . He didn’t win, sure, but it seems that after that his career kind of took off.

But Bucky hasn’t even mentioned it, not once. At least, not explicitly. Steve begins pacing again, wondering if he’s being completely stupid (he probably is).  _ How _ , in  _ six months _ of dating, did Bucky being  _ internationally famous _ not come up? It’s not like all this has happened in six months, Bucky was famous when Steve met him. Which, in all fairness, does explain his presence at the fancy club, and why he didn’t seem so bothered by Steve staring at him, but still. He’s puzzling over how this managed to slip under the radar when the bathroom door opens, and closes, Bucky standing just inside.

“You’re freaking out.” He says, and Steve stops pacing. He wants to say no, but - yeah. The answer is yes. He is. Bucky sighs, puts his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be a big deal, y’know, but it’s scary when it’s your first time, and--”

“I didn’t know.” Steve interrupts, because he doesn’t want Bucky freaking out too. One at a time. “I didn’t know that you’re… famous.”

Bucky looks so stunned, that Steve wonders, momentarily, if they’re stuck in some kind of freeze-frame. But then Bucky blinks, and shifts, and he says, “You didn’t know?”

“I told you, I don’t, uh. I don’t watch movies. And I don’t keep up with pop culture, so…”

“Do you go outside?” Bucky asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that’s teasing. He isn’t freaking out anymore, even though he’s trying to look serious. “Ever seen a billboard?”

“I should’ve known you’d have an ego the size of Manhattan.” Steve retorts, and Bucky grins, walking over to him and wrapping his arms around him tightly. 

“I just assumed that you knew.” He says into Steve’s shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie.”

“I’m the only person who didn’t, apparently,” Steve says, voice muffled by Bucky’s shoulder. “So you’re off the hook.”

“Thank you.” Bucky grins. “Can we go watch my movie now?”

“What’s it about?” Steve asks, following Bucky out of the bathroom, taking his hand once more.

“You don’t-- never mind.” Bucky says, shaking his head. “It’s about this russian spy, who was trained to be a covert killer but now he’s escaped and he wants to take revenge on the agency that made him a weapon the past ten years--”

~*~

It was a good movie, Steve can admit that. And watching your boyfriend on screen? Kind of weird.

Steve lies in bed the next morning with his tablet propped up on his chest, scrolling through netflix. They don’t have all of Bucky’s movies, but they have the big ones; he doesn’t think he’ll mind sitting still for two hours, if he gets to watch his boyfriend the whole time.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, still wet from the shower, and he grins at Steve. “I’m trending on twitter thanks to you.”

He throws his phone at Steve, who picks it up, squinting at the screen. Pictures of him and Bucky are being shared around everywhere, some people calling them an adorable couple, others wondering who  _ James Barnes’ mystery friend _ is. Steve snorts at that one, shifting closer to Bucky when he flops down onto the bed.

“They’re gonna give us a name.” Bucky says. “Like Brangelina. Or Kimye.”

“They don’t know my name.” Steve points out. “I’m  _ James Barnes’ mystery friend _ .”

Bucky chuckles, pulling Steve in for a kiss. “I kind of like you being my boyfriend.” He says. “That okay with you?”

“More than okay.” Steve grins, shifting closer to kiss him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus, Steve,” Bucky grumbles, shifting so that their eyes can meet. “Are you deliberately going for all the gritty dramas first? There’re rom coms, yknow, if you're still determined to watch my ugly mug--”
> 
> Steve has already put the movie on, which promptly shuts Bucky up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of this AU because I'm in love with it, and could probably write it forever! Here we have Steve finally catching up on all of Bucky's movies from his sick-bed. Enjoy!

“What're you-- is that me?”

Steve got sent home from work. He got sent home, after Bucky told him to  _ stay _ at home, and honestly he's glad that seeing his own face on the television in their newy shared apartment (because after Steve hadn't freaked out - much - at the premiere of his movie the two weeks ago, Bucky’d asked him to move in, and seeing as Steve spent most of his time at Bucky’s place anyway, it’d taken him about a half an hour to move his stuff over) stops Bucky from giving Steve the “ _ I told you so _ ” speech.

“Mm.” Steve hums, because he's kind of lost of his voice. Fucking flu, every year. He feels like he's been trampled by an elephant, a whole heard of them, but he sits on the couch, still in his work clothes, regardless. “ _ Fortress Ruhr _ .”

Admittedly, he isn't very far into it. Bucky is still a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young soldier, and Steve gets the feeling he won't be by the end. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young soldiers don't  _ almost _ win Oscars.

Bucky’s only just come in from the gym - his new movie,  _ Siberian Cell _ , is a big hit with the critics, and he's already landed himself a role in another two movies, which means keeping himself in tip-top condition. Steve for one isn't complaining, until Bucky says, “I'm going for a shower.”

Steve's immediate response is, “I'll come with you,” but Bucky looks at him like he's trying to glue him to the sofa with his glare.

“You're sick. You need rest. You can join me in the shower when you're better.” He says, and then turns on his heel to go.

“The steam will be good for my sinuses!” Steve rasps after him, before breaking into a fit of coughing that has Bucky shoving a glass of water into his hand, and pulling a blanket over his knees. 

“Sit still. Get better. Don't die on my couch.”

“It's our couch now.” Steve grouses.

Bucky pauses, and then grins. “So it is.” He says, kissing Steve's dampened forehead before heading back off to the bedroom.

~*~

_ Fortress Ruhr _ is a good movie too - Steve's starting to see a trend here. Though, he supposes, he  _ is _ biased. He likes war movies to begin with, and he likes Bucky’s face (a lot), though the movie continues to be good even after Bucky’s character dies at the hands of a German rifle.

By that time, of course, Bucky has come out of the shower, dressed now in a pair of ratty jeans and an even rattier tee, and has joined Steve on the sofa, petting his hair and stroking his arm every so often.

“Who'd you lose the Oscar too?” Steve asks, after the movie has ended.

Bucky’s eyebrow arches. “You can't even be bothered to read my Wikipedia page? I'm hurt, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes - it makes his head hurt. “I  _ have _ read your Wikipedia page.” He retorts, which earns him a broad grin from Bucky. “But I'd have had to click through to the academy award page to read about who  _ did _ win, and I had other things on my mind at the time.”

Bucky snickers softly, fingers scratching Steve's scalp. “Lost to Gabe Jones. I knew I was gonna, though, so don't go feeling sorry for me.”

“I wasn't.” Steve teases, Bucky chuckling softly. Steve is silent for a moment, then asks, “Who’d you take with you?”

Bucky blushes, looks away. “My ma.”

“Oh my god,” Steve murmurs. “Oh my god, that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.”

“Steve,” Bucky groans.

Steve pointedly ignores him. “If I wasn't dying and dripping snot everywhere I'd kiss you--”

“Gross,” Bucky grimaces, pulling his hand back only momentarily before going back to petting Steve's hair. “So you admit that you're sick?”

Damn. Steve walked right into that one. He sniffs. “I'm admitting nothing.”

Bucky snorts softly. “Wanna catch up on Grey’s?”

“Nuh uh, I'm working through my list.” Steve pouts. “I'm going to watch  _ In Absentia _ next.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky grumbles, shifting so that their eyes can meet. “Are you deliberately going for all the gritty dramas first? There’re rom coms, yknow, if you're still determined to watch my ugly mug--”

Steve has already put the movie on, which promptly shuts Bucky up.

~*~ 

Steve wakes up, groggy and feeling like he's had a tonne of bricks dropped onto him. 

It's dark, but Bucky is still next to him on the couch, sitting up straight with Steve's head in his lap, his own head lolling back against the back of the sofa. Steve winces; as much as he feels like shit and wants to go back to sleep, he also doesn't want Bucky to wake up with a crick in his neck.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, nudging him gently.

Bucky snuffles, and then groans as he picks his head up, rubbing at his neck. He peers at Steve through one eye. “You fell asleep during my movie.”

“I'm sick.” Steve argues, coughing for good measure. The cough wipes the satisfied smirk off of bucky’s face, his hand rubbing steve’s back gently. 

“Let's go to bed.” Bucky murmurs, lifting Steve up before he can argue and carrying him to the bedroom.

~*~

Steve wakes up at 11am the next day to a text from his boss and a note from Bucky. The text tells him not to bother coming in today, or tomorrow, and not until he's stopped coughing and hacking and generally infecting the office. The note from Bucky says that he'll be out all day, there's soup in the fridge, and if he finds out that Steve has so much as moved from the bed he’ll skin him once he gets home. 

Steve wants to argue that he can't reach the soup in the fridge if he can't leave the bed, but there's no one to argue with.

And anyway, as it turns out, he isn't hungry. He feels kind of nauseous, actually, and when he tries to sketch it makes his head hurt, so he picks the tablet up off the bedside table, and decides to get back to his list.

He finishes  _ In Absentia _ , the mystery drama whose plot twist he really didn't see coming (Bucky’s character was the murderer all along, and Steve texts him about it almost as soon as he finds out), and then he turns on one of the rom coms,  _ 20 times a lady _ . A romantic comedy seems strange after the last two movies Steve has watched, but that's talent, he supposes. What's the word? Versatility. He tells Bucky as much in a text, and gets a winky face in return.

It kind of just makes him miss Bucky, though, watching him making out with the actress in screen. Makes him kind of jealous, too, and maybe a little hot, but only because he never gets to see Bucky from this angle. Or maybe because he's currently dying from flu, and thus delirious. Maybe both. 

He gets out of bed long enough to get some soup, and he sits at the breakfast island out of sheer pig-headedness; he’s not that sick, he tells himself. He can eat in the kitchen like an ordinary human being.

In the end, he settles on the couch, because the effort exerted to stay upright on the stool at the island has wiped him out (not that he’s going to admit it, thank you very much). It’s fine, though; he puts on another one of Bucky’s movies, a science fiction thing that Steve gets 15 minutes into before he ends up falling asleep, warm and full and Bucky’s voice in his ears.

~*~

It’s dark out when he wakes up, but someone’s put the lights on and there’s singing coming from the kitchen. Steve sits up, groans, and watches as a woman, crimson hair tied up in a messy bun, a dark tank top showing off the toned muscle of her back, walks around the kitchen.

Steve blinks, and then clears his throat - or tries to, anyway, but it just dissolves into a coughing fit, causing the woman to look over her shoulder, and then turn around completely.

Steve recognises her, and assumes it’s his flu-addled brain that stopped him from clocking that shock of red hair and making the link to the woman in the photograph that was hung up on the wall in the hallway. 

Bucky had told Steve the story, when he had asked, about how the two of them were good friends, and in that photo had went on holiday together, in a yacht off the coast of Greece, after finishing a particularly long project. Two weeks ago, he had informed Steve that the project had been  _ The Haunting of Hill House _ , a horror film that had taken them an extra three months to shoot because the director couldn’t make his mind up on locations and lightning and dialogue. 

Steve had subsequently looked her up as well; Bucky said they met at the premier of  _ Fortress Ruhr _ (Natasha, at the time, had been dating one of Bucky’s co-stars), and had been friends ever since. Natasha was a Russian ballerina in a former life, and now an American actress. Steve has never met her before today, and he sort of wishes he’d had some kind of warning; she’s spectacular in a way that he isn’t, especially when he’s hacking his lungs up.

“James told me to just come in,” She says, a small smile curving her lips. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” Steve shakes his head, and immediately regrets the action. Natasha is by his side before he can blink, shoving a bowl of bright red broth into his hands. 

“It’s  _ borscht _ ,” She explains, standing back with her hands on her hips. “An old Russian remedy - it cures everything. You’ll be better by this time tomorrow.”

“I already ate soup today.” Steve laments.

Natasha shushes him; Steve wonders why he's letting this random woman boss him around. He puts the spoon to his lips anyway, and thinks, as he takes his first spoonful, that he's glad he can't taste anything right now.

“James just wanted me to check up on you.” She explains, perching on the coffee table. “He's running a little later than he'd expected, the photographer for  _ Shield _ is a bit neurotic.”

_ Shield _ , Steve knows, is an entertainment magazine. He wonders if Bucky’s done any photo shoots with them before - if he has, he wants to see them. He wants to see all of them, in fact. 

“I don't need to be checked up on.” Steve says pointedly, eyebrows arching. He ruins the effect, though; he chokes on what he thinks might be a beet, and Natasha has to pat his back.

“I'm sure you don’t.” She says evenly. “But James needs you to be checked on - do you see?”

Steve huffs. He  _ does _ see. And he knows that if it were Bucky at home in bed, and Steve had no way to make sure he was alright, he'd send Peggy over in a flash.

“What were you watching?” Natasha asks, shifting to look over her shoulder at the television, which has his Netflix list up. 

“ _ Diana _ ,” Steve says, and Natasha’s nose wrinkles. “You don't like sci if?” He asks.

“I don't like the director.” She says, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Have you seen  _ A Many Splintered Thing _ yet?”

Bucky must have told her about the fact that Steve is, apparently, an idiot. “Not yet.”

She nods, reaching for the remote to switch it on and shoving Steve further up the couch, happy to risk her health to sit next to Patient 0 and watch the movie in a little more comfort.

It's another rom com, but sort of a cynical, tongue-in-cheek affair. Steve likes it, so much so that he manages to make it the entire way through.

~*~

Bucky comes home whilst they're watching  _ Injustice _ , a hard-hitting drama (or something - he and Natasha have been making jokes about it for the entire 45 minutes that they've had it on, the two of them getting along pretty well), and when he sees the two of them he groans.

“You two look like you're ganging up on me.” He says, stowing away his jacket and toeing off his shoes, coming over to kiss Steve’s forehead. “Are you making fun of me? I won a Golden Globe for that!”

“If you have a Golden Globe, why haven't I seen it?” Steve says, his eyes narrowing. 

Bucky shrugs. “It's at Sharon’s office. She took it off me after I nearly lost it in a bet.”

“It would've looked nice next to my Academy Award.” Natasha sighs softly, eyes on the television. Steve wonders momentarily if he's still delirious, but then he realises that he couldn't make stuff like this up.

~*~

“Which one was your favourite, then?” Bucky asks, his fingertips running over Steve’s stomach, lips at his temple.

Natasha’s bright red, scary looking soup had actually worked - he'd been better in a day, but by then it had been the weekend, so he'd ended up on the sofa watching more of Bucky's movies, until he'd finally gotten through the whole list.

Steve shifts, rolls so that he can sit on top of Bucky, straddling his hips. “This is my favourite.” He says, hands splaying out on Bucky’s chest, fingers brushing his skin. “You look good on film ‘n all, but I kind of like the real thing.”

Bucky smiles softly st him, hands on his back pulling him in for a soft, sweet kiss.

“And anyway,” Steve says, having moved back only an inch, his lips brushing bucky’s as he speaks. “They were all garbage, the second  _ Smurfs _ movie is better than all of those combined--”

Bucky laughs, flipping them over and pinning Steve to the bed with his weight, knocking their foreheads together. “Punk.” He accuses, kissing him hard. 

“Jerk.” Steve retorts, pulling him into another kiss.

~*~

His favourite, though, is  _ 20 times a lady _ , and it has nothing to do with the fact that Bucky is naked or otherwise shirtless in most of his scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did briefly mention in the last fic that Natasha was Bucky's publicist, which I changed to Sharon for the purpose of this fic (plus, Natasha being a publicist just doesn't do her justice, right?). 
> 
> Some of the movies mentioned I completely made up, and the rest are either tenuous references to movies from both Seb Stan and Chris Evans' filmographies, or are blatant references to movies from their filmographies. Points for guessin which is which!
> 
> Also I googled "Russian remedies for everything" and _borscht_ was the answer I got. It looks genuinely terrifying, but apprently is very good. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I know the tense changes up there, but going from past to present is my way of, you guessed it, distinguishing an event from the past from the rest of the story, in the present. Just in case anyone was confused as to why I'd switched!
> 
> And yeah Bucky's suit is totally based off of [this one](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/qXG0CKWSJ2Rr8dp7vPbufeI_qcg/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2016/05/02/824/n/1922398/0f3ad1cfa9cb9cae_GettyImages-490378282/i/Sebastian-Stan-Hot-Pictures.jpg). It's a damn fine suit.
> 
> Comments, questions, queries and more prompts are more than welcome here or over at [my tumblr](http://liionne.tumblr.com), and thanks for reading!


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